


All That Matters

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Breakfast, Dubious Morality, Existential Angst, Fear, Gunplay, Hostage Situations, Introspection, Mid-Canon, Moral Ambiguity, Multiple Selves, Non-Graphic Violence, Questioning, Rescue, Restlessness, Robbery, Sacrifice, Scene Gone Wrong, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: How far will Jackieboy go to protect one of his own? Would he take a life for a life?





	All That Matters

When it came down to it, Jackieboy had three rules he would teach any citizen if he had the chance. First: Don’t be a victim. Second: Don’t be a perpetrator. Third: Don’t be a bystander.

Today, the first and the third were essentially forfeit—and the second? He was dangerously close.

The group of robbers holding the restaurant hostage honestly had no idea who they were threatening. He had gone out in plainclothes today; Chase had insisted on it.

“We should get a chance to eat in peace before somebody recognizes you and tackles you for an autograph,” he pointed out, only half-teasing, and Jackieboy had relented. Chase deserved that much for all of his hard work lately. He was getting a better sum than usual; ever since his suicide attempt, it seemed as if he had been working from the ground up to regain his followers’ trust and support. After months, it was finally paying off. Chase had come to him today with a _smile_ of all things and he’d asked if he could treat him to brunch.

“Marvin’s getting ready for his next show and Schneep’s taking the midmorning shift at the hospital…It’s rare that we get a chance to hang out just the two of us.”

Jackie couldn’t have argued with that either, but his casual gray hoodie and torn blue jeans did nothing to disguise his naturally heightened sense for danger. As soon as he noticed the trio of shifty men slink into the restaurant with a suspiciously large duffel bag in tow, he’d straightened, gripping his fork with more force. He wasn’t in his vibrant jumpsuit and mask, he’d reminded himself. He didn’t have the authority to confront them like this.

How could he have let that be an excuse? His duties as a hero didn’t stop with his attire! As soon as he saw the outline of the gun tucked neatly into the band of the shortest one’s pants, he flagged down the manager, but the minute it had taken was a minute too long. The next thing he knew, one of the men was barring the doors, swinging a shotgun out in front of him as the others hollered over the panicked patrons, ordering them to gather on the other side of the room.

Chase was one of a few that went too slow, letting out a sharp, stuttered cry that tore at Jackie’s chest as the tallest gunman dragged him back by a fistful of his mussed green hair. Even as he spat curses and thrashed and strained, flailing his limbs in a desperate attempt to fight back, the enemy had him in a stranglehold in seconds—and as soon as the gun was pressed against his temple, he went dead silent. Jackieboy’s heart skipped a few solid beats at how sudden the shutdown was, as if he was a lamp that had its cord ripped out of the wall.

Don’t be a perpetrator.

Translation: Don’t fight out of rage or spite. Don’t try to take revenge. Don’t fight with the one motivation of pounding your enemies into the ground.

In this case, Jackieboy knew he had the right to. He knew it would be all too easy, but for now he held still, acting like just another member of the alarmed crowd, keeping his lifted hands steady and watching the gunman’s every move, his jaw working tightly as he risked a glance at Chase. The raw emotion in the younger Ego’s eyes made his stomach twist like taffy.

“ _Stay calm_ ,” Jackieboy mouthed slowly, firmly, hoping that his own eyes didn’t reveal the fear pounding in his gut. Perhaps they did, as Chase promptly began trembling—the opposite of what he wanted. “ _Stay calm, stay calm_ —”

Clutching at the thick, hairy, unyielding arm of the robber drawn across his neck, Chase shook his head just a fraction, whispering soundlessly. “ _Help me_ …” Jackieboy had never imagined two simple words could break his heart more.

“ _It’s going to be okay_ ,” was all he could think to say. As he registered the message, Chase swallowed hard, shaking his head a little, and the gunman noticed.

“You tryin’ to say something to him, kid?” he growled, retightening his hold on Chase’s throat by pulling his arm in and up, until the toes of the vlogger’s boots were scuffing against the floor for the lack of air.

“Stop! Stop,” Jackie burst out, drawing sharp breaths from the other hostages and a sneer from his enemy.

“You want me to stop, you set yourself down on the ground and look pretty next to the others! You’re not gonna slip anything past me, so you better just stay still and quiet or I’m gonna make your little pal a redhead,” he warned, prodding the barrel of his gun further into Chase’s hair.

All color draining from his face, Chase went limp in his hands, his eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as he visibly tried not to shudder from the familiar sensation, and it took everything Jackie had in him not to lunge and tear off the gunman’s arm for making Chase ever feel that cold, unforgiving metal on his skin again. As he slowly sank down next to the other quivering hostages, the undercover hero’s mind was awash with a thousand thoughts at once.

_My identity—_

_If I act here, everyone will see—They’ll know—_

_Try to make it into the kitchen to change—_

_Who knows who’s back there to see me? Could be more accomplices—_

_Chase. Chase, Chase, Chase—All that matters is Chase—Gotta save Chase—_

Time slowed without warning and all at once, Jackieboy was keenly, infinitely aware of everything around him. He could hear the heavy beat of his own heart against his ribcage, the shaky breaths of the hostages just beside him, the garbled cries of panic from the manager and the shuffling of bills as one of the other robbers forced him to withdraw the money…

Yet all that mattered was Chase.

He wasn’t about to stand by and let this happen.

The fire in his blood awoke with a roar in his ears, giving him a burst of adrenaline that his body could never supply _naturally_. Within a second he had thrown himself across the dirty linoleum and into the air, his fist narrowly grazing the top of Chase’s head as it cracked the gunman’s jaw.

The gun jolted with the impact and went off but Jackieboy ignored it; he was single-minded, already skirting past the fallen gunman and targeting the second one at the doors. He panicked, reacting too late to lift his shotgun before the hero had seized the barrel and wrenched it out of his grasp. His free hand smashed the shotgunner’s head back into the door pane, leaving a web of cracks in the glass from the force.

Two down, one left—the one with the manager. Hefting the shotgun up into his hands, he turned and trained it on the last man, who froze as the manager escaped through the kitchen doors a few feet away.

“You should probably drop the gun and the duffel bag,” Jackieboy warned, grim and cold.

 _Don’t be a perpetrator_. This rule was constantly in his mind, but apparently it had decided to take a leave of absence from his memory. Even as he registered the disbelief, the panic, the helplessness in the robber’s eyes, there was no trace of sympathy or mercy in Jackieboy’s.

The hostages on the other side of the room murmured apprehensively as they looked on; Jackie could sense their tension even from this distance. He did his best not to let it distract him and instead focused on the robber’s train of thought. It was predictable: _Where did it all go so wrong? How can I get out of it? I can’t go back to prison! Should I explain why I’m doing this? Should I risk lifting my gun? Should I run? Should I beg?_

Jackieboy decided to make it easier on him, cocking the shotgun with a heavy, decisive _clank_. “Drop them or…what was it your friend there said? I make you a redhead?”

“Jackie…” Chase’s breathed word caught his attention, but it wasn’t needed; the last gunman was muttering nervous surrender, tossing the gun into the duffel and throwing it aside. Clenching his teeth, Jackie did the same with the shotgun, crossing the distance in three strides and snatching his new captive by the back of the neck, steering him toward the door.

It wasn’t long before the police arrived to take the criminals off Jackie’s hands and aside from a few odd looks, none of them seemed to question who he may or may not be. The other hostages, to Jackie’s surprise, didn’t breathe a word about his inhuman speed in taking out the perpetrators. They simply said that everything had happened so fast.

Chase, however, didn’t seem as relieved as Jackie would have expected. Instead he stood in the corner of the restaurant, staring at the bullet hole in the wall. Jackie moved up behind him, following his gaze and exhaling bitterly.

“That bullet was meant for you…” he growled, to which Chase nodded numbly and glanced up at him.

“Jackie—” He hesitated, measuring his words for a few moments before seeking his courage to venture softly, “You wouldn’t have shot him, would you?”

“Of course not,” Jackie retorted—perhaps a beat too quickly, if Chase’s expression was any indication. The vlogger shifted away so he could face him more easily, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Jackie,” he repeated, slow and incredulous, “would you have _shot_ him?”

The older Ego blinked, let his shoulders slump and jammed his hands in his pockets, accepting the other’s judgmental stare as he took a moment to actually mull it over.

“…I don’t know,” he allowed at last, cautiously. That was the honest truth. To protect Chase, to protect any of them, who knew what lengths he would go to? He was confident without the shadow of a doubt that he would die for them. No hesitation necessary on that point—but to kill someone _else_ for them?

Maybe.

“Well, _don’t_. Don’t go anywhere _near_ there, Jackie,” Chase broke through his thoughts, his voice low and terse as he retrained narrowed eyes on the bullet hole. “I’ve shot someone before. We both know it didn’t exactly turn out like I hoped it would.”

Jackieboy wasn’t so quick to answer that time.


End file.
